Age of the Amulet Read online

  Jim winced, coming to the conclusion that he’d never cook dinner for his mom again.

  CHAPTER 8

  BATTLEFIELD ARCADIA

  Steve saw the moonlit edge of the woods just ahead and said, “We’re getting closer.”

  “Aw, I’m glad you feel that way too, Steve,” said Eli with a happy smile. “The greatest weapon in the Creepslayerz’ arsenal is our friendship!”

  “What?” said Steve.

  “Who’d have thought?” Eli continued, unaware of the disgust on Steve’s face. “One day you’re shoving me into a locker, the next you’re—”

  Steve pushed Eli off the path and into some shrubs.

  “—shoving me into poison ivy,” Eli mumbled as he got to his feet and rejoined Steve.

  Stopping at the tree line, they crouched low and peered between two oaks. They saw Arcadia Oaks’ Main Street just beyond them—and Kilfred’s Troll parade walking right toward it. The lampposts lit up their bulky stone bodies as they passed the various shops and restaurants, studying their own curious reflections in the windows. Fortunately, the Trolls had arrived after hours, and everything was closed with no human residents in sight.

  “For once, I’m glad this loser town doesn’t have a nightlife scene,” Steve muttered.

  “You’re right,” said Eli. “Yes, most of our neighbors are asleep right now, but someone’s bound to notice Kilfred’s search-and-destroy party sooner or later. Unless . . .”

  “ ‘Unless’ what?” Steve asked.

  “Unless we can convince the Trolls that Arcadia is so dangerous, they’d be better off back in the warehouse,” Eli mused. “It’s a classic smoke-and-mirrors campaign.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I brought the smoke,” Steve said with a grin as he held up the rounded crystals he took from the Troll crate.

  “Smoke bombs,” said Eli in hushed awe, recognizing the similarity they bore to the ones his mom bought from the magic shop.

  The Creepslayerz ninja-ed out of the woods and over to Main Street. They stopped every now and then to duck behind a statue or drop and roll onto the ground like commandos—even though the Trolls weren’t even looking in their direction.

  “Look at these crass, pointless edifices the fleshbags have built,” Steve and Eli heard Kilfred say from their current location behind a park bench. “Since when do mighty Trolls cower from a species that needs to purchase its magic from a shop?”

  The Creepslayerz peeked long enough to see the other Trolls mutter in agreement with Kilfred’s sentiments. Some started knocking over public trash cans, punching mailboxes, and rocking the parked cars, setting off their theft alarms.

  “It’s now or never,” said Eli. “Let’s go!”

  “This is for the graduating class of Arcadia Oaks High!” Steve shouted. “GO MOLES!”

  With that, Steve called upon his years of baseball practice and threw the smoke bombs at the Trolls.

  A massive fireball mushroomed into the night air, setting off any remaining car alarms that the Trolls had not yet triggered. The force of the explosion knocked Steve off his feet and sent Eli tumbling after him. They landed in the park adjacent to Main Street, their ears ringing and faces blackened with soot. Unharmed by the blast, the assembled Trolls retreated from the blazing remains of Alex’s Arcade and whipped into an even greater frenzy than before.

  “Do you see?” hollered Kilfred, pointing at the inferno behind him. “The fleshbags fear our superiority, so they now seek to attack us! Must we Trolls suffer again at their mad whims? It’s time for us to retaliate in kind!”

  The black-and-white Troll led his followers on a tear away from Main Street and into Arcadia Oaks at large.

  “I don’t think that was a smoke bomb,” reasoned Eli.

  “Nah, it was a Dwärkstone grenade, ya dorks,” sniped a familiar voice behind them.

  Steve and Eli turned and discovered NotEnrique, flanked on either side by Walter Strickler and Ms. Nomura. The green imp shook his head and added, “Toldja you was in way over yer heads.”

  CHAPTER 9

  NOT-SO-GREAT GRONKA MORKA

  Blinky’s homecoming to his childhood Trollmarket would’ve been a lot more special without the handcuffs.

  Tellad-Urr’s doppelgangers had dragged him, AAARRRGGHH!!!, Toby, and their wheelbarrows full of metal for what felt like miles across the English moors. Just before the sun rose, they reached the tall hill known as Glastonbury Tor, where the dark Trollhunter drew open a Horngazel passage. Blinky had squinted his many eyes as he and his two friends were pressed through the blinding tunnel of light and rock. Once they reached the other side, Blinky’s vision returned, and he beheld the Trollmarket in which he had grown up. It now seemed much smaller to the adult Blinky, although he easily recognized the purple Heartstone growing upside down from the cavern ceiling. Below that, he saw the many caves he had frequented as a young Troll, yet they now seemed to be without occupants. In fact, most of Glastonbury Tor Trollmarket appeared devoid of much life or warmth at all to Blinky.

  “This way, six-eyed scum,” ordered the Tellad-Urr holding Blinky’s chain.

  Blinky stumbled alongside AAARRRGGHH!!! and Toby as two of the dark Trollhunter duplicates led them lower, while the rest wheeled away the barrows. Toby tugged the abrasive shackle around his neck and said, “Not too big on hospitality in the Dark Ages, are they?”

  “Indeed,” Blinky seconded. “I remember every Troll here being rather pleasant—except my older brother, Dictatious. He always was an insufferable, egotistical, opportunistic—”

  “Jerk,” AAARRRGGHH!!! finished, ducking his mossy green head as they were prodded into the cramped confines of the Trollmarket’s dungeon.

  The three prisoners’ hearts sank as they took in the dank warren of caves, each barred by a web of orange crystal spikes. The only sounds they heard were the trickle of foul-smelling water along the mold-slicked walls and the defeated moans of more captured Trolls. One of the Tellad-Urrs inserted an oversized key into the dungeon wall, causing the orange spikes to retract. The second shoved Toby, Blinky, and AAARRRGGHH!!! into the now-open cell.

  “Say, uh, mister unicorn Troll, sir?” Toby said politely. “Would you mind giving me back my Warhammer? It has sentimental value.”

  “One of my others has buried it at the bottom of my vault,” answered the Tellad-Urr. “Just as you will soon fill the bottom of my belly!”

  The identical Trollhunters barked in laughter and removed the key. With a hiss, the crystal spikes slid back into place, sealing Toby, Blinky, and AAARRRGGHH!!! into the dungeon. Still cackling, the Tellad-Urrs left, taking the only key with them.

  “It was worth a try,” Toby mumbled, before something brushed against him in the dark.

  Toby yelped and hid behind his massive wingman. Being a Krubera, AAARRRGGHH!!! was accustomed to the low-light conditions of Earth’s deepest caves and, therefore, was the first to spot their cellmates. Toby and Blinky’s eyes soon adjusted too, and saw scores of withered Trolls shambling toward them. Their stone skin sallow and their eyes protruding with hunger, they closed in around Toby, Blinky, and AAARRRGGHH!!!

  “Oh, great!” Toby cried. “I suppose all you old-school Trolls want to eat me too!”

  The imprisoned Trolls halted in place, looking insulted. One said, “Eat you? Why would we ever want to do that? You look disgusting.”

  “Whew! Thanks!” Toby whistled in relief, before the rest sunk in. “I think?”

  Blinky inspected the wilting Trolls and said, “They’re being deprived of the Heartstone’s nourishing glow in this dungeon.”

  “Made weak . . . on purpose,” said AAARRRGGHH!!!

  “You mean . . . this’ll happen to both of you the longer we stay down here?” Toby asked, casting a concerned look over his two friends. “We’ve gotta bust outta here pronto!”

  “Agreed, but not just yet,” Blinky said before addressing the sickly Trolls. “I say, what has brought all of you to this dismal place? You certainly
don’t seem like criminals.”

  “We’re not,” wheezed a prisoner. “Unless you count ‘refusing to attack fleshlings’ as a crime. Tellad-Urr certainly does. . . .”

  “You mean . . . the dark Trollhunter demands you eat humans?” Blinky inquired, aghast.

  “No, Kilfred had more of a taste for that . . . though Gorgus knows where he and his lackeys have disappeared to,” answered another captive. “Tellad-Urr the Terrible doesn’t care whether we eat humans or not. He just wants us to raid their villages for his ‘tributes.’ ”

  “Those wheelbarrows full of metal,” said Blinky. “But what would Merlin’s misguided champion need with all that worthless pig iron?”

  “Maybe he’s practicing Troll dentistry?” Toby guessed, his braces twinkling.

  All six of Blinky’s eyes focused on his young teammate’s metal mouth, then brightened with an idea. “Tobias, have I complimented you on your smile lately? Why, it lights up this very dungeon—and may provide our means of escape from it.”

  Toby grinned wider, allowing Blinky to reach inside and pluck the wire from his braces.

  “Ow!” cried Toby.

  “My apologies, but we have to move quickly if this is going to work,” Blinky said, reeling a seemingly endless strand of wire from Toby’s braces. “AAARRRGGHH!!!, I believe now’s a suitable time to make yourself comfortable.”

  AAARRRGGHH!!! broke all his chains with a casual shrug. The shattered restraints fell to the floor with a clatter, making the imprisoned Trolls around him perk up in hope.

  “Wha—?!” Toby gasped as Blinky finished unspooling the last bit of wire. “You mean, you could’ve broken free at any time? Why the heck didn’t you do that earlier?”

  “I advised him not to, as soon as those facsimile Tellad-Urrs tackled us in that village,” said Blinky, now bending the enormous bale of wire this way and that with his many hands.

  AAARRRGGHH!!! snapped the chains off Toby and Blinky, who completed tweaking the wire. Its new shape reminded Toby of a giant circuit—and of the weird key held by their one-horned jailer. Blinky carefully threaded the kinked dental wire past the crystal spikes and hooked it into the dungeon’s keyhole.

  “Besides, I’d like a closer look at that vault Tellad-Urr mentioned,” Blinky continued, gingerly probing with the wire. “If memory serves, it’s full of useful bric-a-brac, including—”

  “A Kairosect! Yes!” exclaimed Toby, catching on.

  “Clonk-donk home,” AAARRRGGHH!!! added as he unshackled the remaining Trolls.

  “Just so,” Blinky affirmed, wrenching the wire in a sudden counterclockwise motion.

  A satisfying clack echoed from the lock tumblers embedded in the dungeon, and the crystal spikes sank back into the walls. Blinky gestured to the way out and said, “Voilà!”

  “Nice to see thousands of dollars of orthodontic hardware finally pay off!” Toby quipped. “Although if I told Dr. Muelas about any of this, he’d think it was the laughing gas talking. . . .”

  Impressed by Blinky’s ingenuity, the freed Trolls all dropped to their knees and bowed to their savior. Surprised by the sudden genuflection, Blinky said, “Great Gronka Morka!”

  “Great Gronka Morka!” repeated the worshipping Trolls. “Great Gronka Morka!”

  Blinky, Toby, and AAARRRGGHH!!! all looked to each other in surprise before the six-eyed Troll said, “I-I thank you for your praise, but please stop. My name is actually Bl—”

  “Great Gronka Morka! Great Gronka Morka!” chanted the liberated Trolls.

  “No, no, no,” Blinky dismissed impatiently. “Great Gronka Morka was a legendary wise Troll. A scholar, much like myself, with six eyes, also much like myself, who appeared out of the blue one day to lead one of the most famous jailbreaks in Troll legend and—”

  Blinky’s six eyes shot wide open with sudden realization. He slapped all four of his hands against his skull and cried, “Oh my Gorgus—I’m Great Gronka Morka!”

  “Great Gronka Morka! Great Gronka Morka! Great Gronka Morka!” the Trolls resumed.

  “Confusing,” admitted AAARRRGGHH!!! with a shake of his head.

  “You mean, all this time you’ve been saying your own name every time you’re freaked out by something?” Toby asked. “Maybe I should try that. Holy Toby!”

  “What have I done?” Blinky muttered as the line of thankful Trolls hugged him on the way out of dungeon. “I only pray Master Jim and Claire are unharmed and doing their level best to not alter the course of history. . . .”

  CHAPTER 10

  GOGUN WEPT

  “Take it!” Jim yelled, thrusting the Amulet into Gogun’s hands for the umpteenth time. “Take it! Take it! Take it!”

  The inactive device slipped out of the old Troll’s fingers as he broke down sobbing again. Jim threw up his hands in frustration.

  “I don’t want the Amulet!” Gogun blubbered. “I don’t want to be a Trollhunter! I don’t want to duh-duh-dieeeeeeee!”

  Claire rolled her eyes as Gogun dropped to the soggy ground under the footbridge, crying even harder. She then tapped Jim and suggested, “Maybe we should try a softer sell. You’ve always said how overwhelmed you felt when you first became the Trollhunter.”

  “My situation hasn’t exactly improved since then,” Jim deadpanned over more wails.

  “There you go,” said Claire. “This is a big responsibility you’re asking Gogun to accept. Maybe try telling him something that comforted you when you were in his place.”

  “Right,” Jim replied, thinking it over.

  Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Jim approached the old Troll, who still sobbed in the river muck, and said, “Hey, uh, Gogun.”

  Gogun uncurled from the fetal position and, in a voice thick with tears, said, “What?”

  “I know being the Trollhunter is kind of a heavy destiny,” Jim started. “But someone once told me that destiny is a gift.”

  “It . . . it is?” sniffled Gogun.

  “Yeah!” said Jim, encouraged by Gogun’s interest. “See, some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation, never learning the truth. That what feels like a burden pushing down upon our shoulders is actually the sense of purpose that lifts us to greater heights.”

  “ ‘Greater . . . greater heights’?” echoed Gogun, now wiping the tears from his cheeks.

  “Never forget that fear is but the precursor to valor. That to strive and triumph in the face of fear is what it means to be a hero,” Jim’s voice swelled. “Don’t think. Become.”

  The old Troll’s lips moved as he silently mouthed the last part of the speech. Gogun then stood up tall, wiped the slop from his body, and said, “Become what? A corpse?!”

  “What? No!” said Jim as Gogun retreated.

  “That’s not what he was saying at all!” vouched Claire.

  “I told you,” Gogun said, his voice rising in anger. “I don’t want to—”

  “Be the Trollhunter, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jim finished for him. “Pretty sure I heard you the first hundred times. Fine. So what do you want then?”

  “Nobody . . . nobody’s ever asked me that,” Gogun said, his pique fading. “But if I had a choice in the matter, I suppose I want to do what I’ve always felt I was born to do.”

  “And what’s that?” said Claire, genuinely intrigued.

  Gogun held his hands by his face, wiggled his fingers enthusiastically, and said, “Dance!”

  Jim and Claire watched the old Troll in bafflement. He started kicking his feet in rhythm, splashing the water and twirling his body as he hummed to himself.

  “At least now we know why he goes by ‘the Graceful,’ ” reasoned Claire just before Gogun tripped and fell face-first into the river.

  “We are so doomed,” said Jim.

  Claire doubled over with a coughing fit. Jim ran to her side, but she waved him off, saying, “I’ll . . . I’ll be all right.”

  “I know when you’re acting, Nuñez,” Jim replied. “You’re getting sicker
the longer we stay here. We gotta get back to our own time. To actual medicine, not leeches and bloodletting.”

  “That . . . that might be a while,” Claire said hoarsely.

  Jim felt a renewed pang of worry as he watched Claire ease herself down to the bank, cup her hands into the river, and drink its waters. Gogun sidled up beside Jim, dripping on him.

  “You . . . care for her, don’t you?” asked the Troll, following Jim’s line of sight to Claire.

  “Yeah,” Jim acknowledged. “I do.”

  “Yes, I can remember what it was like to feel that way for another,” sighed Gogun wistfully, his eyes distant with the onset of memory. “She was called . . . Shmorkrarg.”

  Jim blinked in puzzlement before the old Troll said, “I told you it was a common name. Although everything else about her—her beauty, her fiery passion—was most uncommon. My Shmorkrarg had this funny little way of breaking boulders against her skull. And whenever she smote an enemy, she’d get the most alluring look in her one eye. . . .”

  “Sounds . . . special,” Jim mumbled wearily.

  Gogun sighed, shook the nostalgia from his head, and pulled an unassuming plant from the riverbank. He handed the green shoot to Jim and said, “Here. Succor root. This should help your unfortunate-looking ladyfriend with her cough.”

  Jim felt his spirits rise as he looked from the sprout to Claire and back to Gogun. The ancient, sopping-wet Troll picked up the discarded Amulet from the shoals. He breathed in heavy acceptance, then said, “It’s certainly beautiful.” Then he moved his hand up and down a bit and added, “It’s heavier than it looks. Now tell me . . . does this thing come with instructions?”

  Jim cracked a smile and said, “You’re looking at them.”

  • • •

  “Again,” Jim called as the midday light dappled through the trees.

  He and Claire watched Gogun practice sword fighting with a stick in the forest to which they had moved. The Troll kept to the shade, thrusting, parrying, and striking with his branch.